


I Have Measured Out My Life With Coffee Spoons

by Cones_McMurphy



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Jack is an overdramatic idiot, M/M, Modern AU, Spot and Katherine are just mentioned, this is the cheesiest dumbest coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 23:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12468088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cones_McMurphy/pseuds/Cones_McMurphy
Summary: Jack Kelly is a barista known for his latte art. David Jacobs is his favorite customer.





	I Have Measured Out My Life With Coffee Spoons

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fluffy little coffee shop AU. Feedback is appreciated!

Working in a coffee shop wasn’t the best job Jack had ever had. It paid the bills enough that Crutchie didn’t have to work fulltime anymore, which was good, considering his leg and all, but Jack didn’t care for the fancy drinks. He took his coffee black, as coffee was meant to be consumed. He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at every customer who came in and ordered what more or less amounted to coffee flavored milk.

On the bright side, he wasn’t alone at the job. Race shared most of his shifts—Race was the one who got him the gig in the first place. He sighed as he poured foamed milk into a latte, swirling it with precision. If there was one thing Jack liked about this job, it was the artistic license he was allowed when it came to latte art. Sometimes he made rainbows, stars, suns…Once he’d even made a pumpkin with a curly vine on Katherine’s pumpkin spice latte. (And she still didn’t tip him.) 

It was a Monday afternoon, which meant the usual crowd of tired college kids was about to show up, as they did almost every weekday afternoon. Jack tried to not be bitter when he saw them. He’d have liked an education. But an education means money, and money was not something Jack Kelly, in all his twenty three years on earth, had ever had. So he settled for a GED and the knowledge that he was never going to do better than a barista job, and maybe selling a few paintings, if he was lucky, and he let that be enough.

He finished the latte and called out the name on the side. “Krista? Small nonfat mocha latte for Krista?” A short, perky girl with long dark braids and a wide smile came to the counter.

“That’s me!” She flashed him a smile. “Thanks!”

He returned her smile easily. “My pleasure, miss.” She took her latte and returned to her laptop. She was a student, judging from the books, notes, pens, and highlighters that surrounded her. He hoped whatever she was working on went well.

That’s when _he_ walked in. He was tall and thin, with light hazel eyes, and dark hair that seemed forcefully gelled down, save for a single rebellious curl. Another student, he carried a brown messenger bag over one shoulder, and a held a cell phone to his ear. Jack couldn’t help grinning at the sight of him. 

His name was David, and he’d been coming in for weeks. The first time, Jack had been so flustered that he’d completely messed up his order and given him a vanilla latte instead of the caramel Frappuccino he’d actually ordered. Lucky for Jack, David had taken it good naturedly, and drank the vanilla latte without making a fuss.

Apparently he’d liked it—or Jack’s little latte art stars were good enough that David wanted to see what else he could do—because he’d come back repeatedly and asked for a vanilla latte every single time.

Race teased Jack mercilessly every time David came in because Jack Kelly was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. He nearly tripped over himself to hand David his drinks, and was always sneaking glances at the other boy, who would sometimes sit and write for hours.

That was another thing. David was a writer. He said he wanted to be a novelist, but that his parents liked law school better, so they’d reached a compromise. He’d go to law school, but he’d study creative writing in his undergrad. Law school was a lot of work, but David had a good work ethic, and Jack was pretty sure that he’d make a good lawyer, if he didn’t become a world famous writer first.

So, Jack was smitten, and there David was, walking in, frazzled and rushed, as usual.

“Well, hurry your butt up and get down here!” He laughed into his phone, before hanging up and marching towards the counter.

“What can I get ya?” Race asked with a smile.

“The usual,” David glanced over at Jack, “Vanilla latte. And a grande chocolate mocha, with a double shot of espresso.”

Race raised an eyebrow, “Two drinks? You must be thirsty.” 

David rolled his eyes. “I’m meeting someone.”

Jack’s heart sank. _Meeting someone? I wonder if it’s a date. Of course it’s a date. Look at that boy, how could he be single? I’m so stupid._  

“That’ll be $9.50, please.” 

David coughed up the cash, plus a couple bucks for the tip jar. David always tipped well, even though Jack could tell from his worn shoes and the lose threads on his jacket that he was pretty strapped for cash himself.

David lingered at the counter while Jack fixed his drinks. “How ya been, Jack?”

“You mean since yesterday?” Jack quipped, not looking up. 

“Funny.” David rolled his eyes, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Whatever. Yes. Since yesterday.” 

“I’ve been good. It’s Shark Week, ya know. Crutchie and I love that shit.” Jack looked up just in time to see David smile, eyes shining. 

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because Shark Week is awesome, and everyone with half a brain loves it.”

David pulled his hands from his pockets and raised them in defeat. “Fair.”

Jack finished the drinks and slid them across the counter. David grabbed them, and their hands brushed briefly. Jack tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat.

David immediately looked down at his latte and grinned. Jack had drawn him a rose this time, taking care of the delicate petals of foam, and sprinkling it with cinnamon for good measure. “I think this is your best work yet.”

Jack fought a blush and scoffed. “You should see my _actual_ art.” 

“I’d like to,” David said quietly, not a hint of a joke his tone. 

“Oh…” Jack coughed awkwardly. “I mean, Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“I should…find a table.” David forced out a chuckle, before grabbing his drinks and walking away. Jack deflated. 

“Real smooth, Jack,” Race laughed from behind Jack. “Real smooth.” 

A few minutes later, a tall young woman with curly, dark brown hair and matching eyes came in. She had sharp features, and wore her business casual heels like a biker wore combat boots. She was a girl who meant business—she reminded Jack a little of Katherine, in that way. She scanned the coffee shop, her stone cold face softening into a smile when she caught sight of David.

“Davey!” She called. Jack’s heart sank. _Davey? She must be his girlfriend._

David looked up from his laptop and grinned. “Sarah!” He called her over to his table, holding up the drink he’d ordered for her. He stood up and greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, before pulling out her chair. _Yep, definitely his girlfriend._

They talked animatedly for over an hour. Jack tried his best not to stare or eavesdrop, tried to focus on filling orders, but it was hard. Every now and then David’s laugh would rise above the cacophony of the coffee shop, and Jack’s heart would sink to his feet. He knew he really had no right to be jealous, or heartbroken, or whatever it was. It’s not like he was dating David, or they were even really friends, but god damn it David was cute, and Jack was only human after all.

“Try to look a little more sad, pining, and pathetic,” Race said sarcastically, “You’re not quite selling it.”

“Can it, Race.”

“You don’t even know if she’s his girl!” Race seemed exasperated.

Jack snorted. “They’re awfully touchy if they’re not together.” The girl, Sarah, had her hand on David’s arm, and David didn’t seem bothered by it one bit.

“I’m just saying,” Race shrugged, “You never know.”

Jack was pretty sure he did know.

 

* * *

 

The next day Jack called in sick. He didn’t want to see David again. Which was stupid and overdramatic and he couldn’t believe he was letting himself lose a day’s pay over a _boy_ , but damn it, he was a cute boy, and Jack was an artist, he was allowed to be emotional and overdramatic.

“Cheer up, Jack,” Crutchie tried, slinging his available arm around Jack’s shoulders. “There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“I’m _so_ stupid.” He’d honestly thought he’d had a chance with David. He’d thought that their small talk, the fact that David told him about law school and wanting to be a writer, told him about working his ass off to pay for school…He thought because David complimented his latte art and asked about his real art, that maybe there was something more than in his head. 

As usual, he was wrong.

 

* * *

 

Jack switched shifts with Spot Conlon to avoid seeing David again. He hated working nights, but it was better than having to see David’s stupid, perfect face again.

The night shift was boring. No one came into a coffee shop after 8 PM, except the occasion _really super fucked_ college student. It was so quiet that Jack could run the register _and_ make the coffee. It was BORING.

The first night, he tried to work on some of his sketches, but it was just so boring with no one around that he couldn’t conjure up the slightest of artistic inspiration. 

The second night, he played games on his phone.

The third night was a Friday, and he actually got enough customers to keep from dying of boredom, so that was nice. 

 

* * *

 

Davey Jacobs was confused. It was a blustery Tuesday afternoon, and he walked into his favorite coffee shop, ready to see the cutest barista in the world, but…Jack wasn’t there. Instead, there was a short guy with a lot of freckles, who wasn’t unattractive, but wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as Jack. He didn’t have Jack’s emerald green eyes, his dark hair that fell in his face, or the charming, dimpled smile that completely disarmed Davey’s defenses.

And his latte art was subpar.

“Is Jack sick?” He asked Tony, the cashier.

“He switched his shifts.” Tony didn’t make eye contact. Davey got the distinct feeling that he’d done something wrong. He ordered his usual latte and frowned when he didn’t see Jack’s art in the foam. 

He didn’t see Jack for the next three days, and on the third day he remembered that he didn’t even like lattes that much. He only ordered them to see Jack’s art, which was kind of pathetic, but Jack was handsome and charming and Davey couldn’t help himself. He hated that he missed Jack. He shouldn’t have missed his barista.

But Davey didn’t find himself connecting to people very often. He was quiet and sometimes came off cold, even though he never meant to, and people often found that off putting. There was something different about Jack, though, something that made him feel brighter and lighter than he ever thought possible. Jack seemed to see right through to the heart of who Davey was, and Davey wasn’t about to give that up without a fight.

He let it go four days before he couldn’t do it anymore. He figured Jack probably switched his shift to the night shift—because what other shift was there?—so instead of coming in during the late afternoon like he usually did, he waiting until well after dark to come in.

Jack was sketching over the counter. He was focused, his face tight with concentration. He didn’t even notice that Davey was there until he cleared his throat. Jack looked up with wide eyes, a fake apology hanging on the tip of his tongue until he saw that it was Davey. 

“Oh.” He said, letting his eyes fall back down to his sketchbook. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Davey forced a smile. “So this is where you’ve been hiding yourself?”

Jack nodded sullenly. “You could say that.”

Davey’s smile faltered. Jack was never this quiet. _What happened?_ “So, why’d you switch shifts?” He was trying to keep it casual, but he didn’t think he succeeded.

Jack just shrugged in response. “No reason in particular. Just felt like a change of scenery.” It was almost believable.

“Right…” Davey didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t thought this through at all. He was just some random customer with a crush on a barista that had escalated to something, which now that he was there, seemed like it might constitute as stalking.

Jack bit his lip before speaking again. “Why did you come here?”

“Coffee isn’t as good if you don’t make it,” Davey said simply. 

“Right.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Okay,” David gathered all his courage. “Maybe I’m totally wrong here, but I thought that we were…you know,” Davey fumbled for words, “Clicking? And now, I don’t know…it seems like I did something wrong.” 

Jack finally looked up to meet Davey’s eyes. “You’re not…You didn’t…” 

“Wow, Jack Kelly at a loss for words?” Davey grinned.

“Shut up.”

Davey did as he was told, and waited for Jack to speak again. 

“I just…” Jack huffed. “I like you, okay? And when you showed up with your girl—”

“My _what?_ ” Davey choked on his own spit.

“Your…Your girl? Sarah?” Jack cocked his head to the side in confusion. 

Davey could help but burst out laughing. “No, no,” he managed between wheezing laughs. “You got it all wrong.”

“Y’know, laughing isn’t exactly the reaction I was looking for when I told you that I like you,” Jack grimaced.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Davey finally caught his breath, “It’s just. Sarah…Sarah isn’t my girl. Sarah’s my sister.” 

Jack’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull and he blushed a violent scarlet. “Oh my God…Oh my _God._ Your _sister_? She’s your _sister_?" 

“That’s what I said.” _He’s cute when he’s embarrassed_ , Davey thought absently.

“So, you don’t have a girl?" 

Davey shook his head, “I’m painfully single. And _so_ gay.”

Jack let a small, hopeful smile pull at his lips. “So, do you, uh…That is…”

Davey rolled his eyes, feeling the weight of the past few days fading. “I’m standing in a coffee shop at nearly ten pm because of you. _Yes_ , I like you, you complete idiot.”

Jack’s small smile gave way to a big, goofy grin that made Davey’s heart flutter and his face flush. “So,” Jack continued, leaning across the counter to complete invade Davey’s personal space, “Can I take you out?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
